


the potential of you and me

by displayheartcode



Series: Warmth of the Sun [26]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Always a Different Sex, F/F, Useless Lesbians, unedited
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-15
Updated: 2018-11-15
Packaged: 2019-08-24 05:31:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,769
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16633886
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/displayheartcode/pseuds/displayheartcode
Summary: There were several times people treated them as girlfriends.





	the potential of you and me

**Author's Note:**

> It's me again with another unedited mess I wrote in a day? Writing is hard. I feel bad that I haven't done anything in months.

Rory sat cross-legged in the attic of the Burrow. Despite the Ghoul warbling nearby to the tune of an old Weird Sisters’ song and the stifling summer heat, this was the only place for privacy. She could hear Georgia and Felicity making some sort of explosion several floors down, her brother flinging gnomes away in the garden, and somewhere was her mum waiting to inflict more chores if she thought any of her children were having too much free time. Already, she had Charlotte and Beatrice helping with dinner, and Priscilla have deemed herself too important with her Ministry paperwork.

She used one of Priscilla’s old textbooks as a flat surface, she flattened a piece of curling parchment and tapped the side of it with a self-inking quill.

_Dear Hermione…_

Rory’s hand stilled. She yanked at the end of her long red plait. She picked up Hermione’s letter from the floor, feeling the smoother texture of Muggle paper, tracing the way Hermione wrote her name in neat cursive, ending the tail in the first R for Rory in almost a heart.

_Dad got tickets for the World Cup. I really want you…_

Wait _._

_…and Harry to come with us…_

_“Ohhhh….”_ Felicity appeared suddenly in the attic, the ends of her spiky hair burned and sprinkled with ash. “Are you writing to your girlfriend again?”

“Hermione’s not my girlfriend!” Rory squawked. She crumpled her letter into a ball of parchment. “Go away!”

______

Rory fought her growing anxiety at McGonagall’s words about the approaching Yule Ball. Dancing, dresses – _did this mean Rory had to dance with some boy in her year?_ Walking between Harry and Hermione, she hardly listened to them on their way back to the Gryffindor Common Room.

“But I can’t dance,” Harry said. “What’s the point of making a fool of myself in front of everyone?” 

Hermione _tsked_. Her curly hair was swept into a bun at the nape of her neck. A few strands had already fallen free, tracing the line of her jaw. “Honestly, why can’t either of you be excited? This is our chance to have a lovely evening.” 

“Lovely evenings for us are usually free of danger,” he argued. “And I still have this clue—” He opened his bag to show them the Golden Egg “—to figure out.”

Hermione touched Rory’s arm, jolting her. “What do you think?”

Rory’s mouth went dry. “I…I don’t think I can dance either.”

It was brief, the image of dancing with Hermione. But so was the image of her being asked by scores of elegant Beauxbatons and brooding Durmstrang wizards, and Rory would just be standing there.

She remembered how Hermione looked by the campfire at the cup, the delicate shapes of her wrists, wondering if the Veelas had affected her as it did for Rory. Was that it? She pushed her feelings down and tried not to think about it. 

Nervousness prickled under Rory’s skin. “Why does it matter? The whole thing is going to be stupid anyway. Why bother going when you’re going to be bored to tears by everyone being such a prat?”

They stopped by the painting of the Fat Lady waiting impatiently for them. Hermione smoothed back some of her wayward curls, a certain glint in her brown eyes. “Then since the two of you are determined to be miserable, go together. After all,” her gaze flickered back to Rory, “you just said you have no one to be bored to tears with.” 

They stood there, Rory feeling out of place by how Hermione looked at her. Without another word, she watched Hermione go to the Common Room, her back ramrod straight and hands fisted by her sides.

Harry spoke first. “Was she waiting for you to ask her?”

 ______  

The inside of Twelve Grimmauld Place was full of shadows and ghosts. Not the real kind, Rory knew from school, but the emotional kind that made the air feel cold despite the summer humidity and the creepy stuff that was left behind. There was an active amount of work going through the Black family’s artefacts, and with everyone busy, Rory and Hermione were able to sneak away from prying eyes with a plan in mind.

Sirius stood by the doorway, swaying slightly. They could smell the drink coming off him. “Where _yo…_ you two going?”

Hermione squeaked in Rory’s ear. She gripped Rory’s arm, the other holding onto the letter they were planning on sending to Harry. 

“Um,” said Rory. “Stuff?”

Hermione’s grip turned tighter. She pressed herself into Rory’s side, hiding the letter behind her back.

Sirius blinked. “Kissing stuff. Right.” He winked. “Take any of tha’ rooms, ladies. Make my relatives squirm in their graves.”

______

“Miss. Granger, why is Miss. Weasley out with you?” McGonagall folded her arms over her chest, piercing them with her stern glare. “It is well after curfew for her.”

Startled, Rory and Hermione turned to look at each other. They had been so engrossed in their conversation about Harry’s safety that neither had realized the time.

“We didn’t know!” Rory automatically reached for Hermione’s hand for support.

“Please don’t make us lose any more points!” said Hermione.

Her gaze softened for half a second. “You two can find time together after Miss. Granger finishes her prefect duties for the evening.”

______

The walk back to the castle after practice was especially miserable in the rain. Harry was banned from playing, Hermione was a bundle of nerves, and Rory was doing an awful job of being their team’s Keeper. Her hands and shoulders ached, tears stung in her eyes. She had one dream, one _simple_ dream of being like her sisters and bringing their House to victory.

It was even _more_ miserable when her brother decided to open his mouth.                                                                                              

“Why aren’t you dating Hermione?” Gid pushed his hood up to protect himself from the rain. Mud squelched under their boots.

Rory gave him her strongest imitation of their mother’s stern expression. “Shut up.”

“It’s a question everyone’s been wondering lately,” he argued. “You and Hermione are really close this year. You’ve been helping her with her prefect stuff, doing those lesson plans for the D.A. That’s a lot of private time to spend with someone you see as a friend.”

Rory looked from her brother and to her new broom. She wondered how Mum felt about fratricide. Rain fell in her eyes. “What do you expect me to do?” her voice thinned in annoyance. “Send her a singing Valentine?”  

Gid blushed under his hood. He said a word Mum wouldn’t approve.

“She’s so brilliant and I’m not.” Rory kept her gaze ahead to where the castle was. She thought of Hermione sitting by the cheery fire in the Common Room, determined to finish knitting another hat or a jumper for the House-Elves. Incredible Hermione with her sense of justice already determined to change the world while Rory fumbled during another Quidditch practice.

Despite her foul mood, she then told her brother: “Harry still keeps your Valentine.”

 ______

The train ride back to King’s Cross was calm after hexing Malfoy and his friends. Hermione had her feet in Rory’s lap, reading an Ancient Runes book. Harry and Gid were comparing their results from a quiz in the Quibbler, and Rory had her Christmas jumper balled up to act as a cushion for her head against the rattling compartment window.

Halfway to sleep, she was barely aware of Hermione shifting positions so that her head rested on Rory’s shoulder. Hermione pressed a hand to Rory’s collarbone. Her hair smelled like flowers.

______

“Won’t this make your girlfriend jealous?” Lavender asked between heated kisses. The euphoria from winning the Quidditch match had spurned Rory into a different direction. It hadn’t been hard to miss Hermione’s furious expression. 

 _Hermione doesn’t believe in you_ , the words circled inside her head. _She’s never had and never will._ _You’ll never deserve her._ Viktor was still writing Hermione letters, Cormac had been flirting with her at the tryouts, her brother getting on her case for not acting on her feelings, Rory was an absolute mess of contradictions and emotions so far in the year about her best friend.

“Not my girlfriend,” Rory grunted. Willing to forget everything, she let Lavender undo the top button of her Quidditch uniform.

______

“Where were you?” Rory demanded. She looked up from her pile of homework to see Harry sheepishly take the seat across from her. His hair was in an even messier state than usual, his shirt buttons done wrong and a strange smudge half-hidden by his robe collar.

Hermione set her quill down, no longer interested in correcting Rory’s work. “You promised you would study with us!”

“I was doing stuff.” His Adam’s apple bobbed. “Quidditch Captain stuff.”

“Seeker stuff,” Gid added unhelpfully. Missing his Gryffindor’s tie, he was wearing a jumper that was the wrong size. He stood behind Harry’s stuffed armchair. “Thanks, Captain,” he added cheekily.

“Hi, stuff,” Rory said, annoyed by how casually happy the two were. It wasn’t fair how she was busy trying to cram homework in her free time while her brother skipped classes to snog Harry. “When’s your first OWLs exam again?”

“I don’t know,” he said.

Hermione’s expression turned withering.

“Should we leave you two alone again?” Harry asked, half out of the chair. “Because we can do that for you.”

______

“Are you dating her?” Mum asked as they did the dishes. “You should know that I’ve always approved of you being with her. She’s a smart girl with a good head on her shoulders.”

_“Mum!”_

“So much like me when I was your age, I’m afraid,” her mum continued. “I would have rather faced Filch after curfew than my feelings for your father.” She gave Rory a gentle pat on the head. “Don’t worry, dearie, these things tend to sort themselves out.”

“But I’m afraid,” Rory admitted. “She’s my best friend, Mum.”

______

“Go dance with your girlfriend,” Harry muttered over the rim of his glass. Even under Polyjuice, Rory recognized that smile. Her gaze went back to the crowd, spotting Hermione’s glittery heels and the flowy fabric of her dress.

“She kinda is, isn’t she?” Rory set her drink down on the table and Hermione approached her with flushed cheeks.

Even in heels, the top of her head barely touched Rory’s chin. Rory could make out the different specks of brown in her eyes, the graceful line of her throat. Hermione gathered Rory’s hands in her own, her palms smooth and warm. “Then dance with me.”

Rory answered by kissing her.


End file.
